Mass Effect: True Blue

AN: This story is one chapter ahead on my Patreon.

patreon.com/ryswell - link can be found in the story description or on my profile.

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Montes took his time with the buttons of Williams' dress blues. Each one he plucked loose came with a tiny flicker across her face. He enjoyed the little expressions. She kept a brave face but nothing could hide the nervousness, the tension. 

It was the most fucked up thing about him, Montes knew. How much he loved taking strong and spirited women… and breaking them down. He loved stripping the layers away, loved tearing down the walls they put up to defend against men like him.

He parted the flaps of her top, exposing her long, toned belly and her bra-covered breasts. Tanned skin, so smooth and warm under his hands. She kept a hard expression, breathing in - and Montes delighted in the slight shifting of her flat tummy, enticed by the taut muscle moving just under her skin.

The Spectre agent gave a low whistle. He drew his hands down her bare flanks, his thumbs brushing over her cute navel. Williams breathed in again, sharply this time. And again the muscles of her abdomen did their tiny dance.

Montes flicked his eyes up to meet hers, grinning. Williams did not share his amusement. Her glare was withering, cold fire burning in the pits of her eyes. But Montes did not fear nor falter. He loved a woman's fury… knowing from experience that her anger would only make his fun that much sweeter.

"Look at you…" He murmured, turning his gaze back to her breasts and belly. She really was a well-formed woman. "I didn't know intelligence officers kept themselves in such good shape."

"They do when they're called Williams." The Alliance officer bit back. Her tone told him her patience was wearing very thin. The man's smile only grew. 

"I'll say. Got something to prove, LT?"

"Not to you. Fucking pig." She mumbled that last part, like she wanted him to hear but didn't have the nerve to spit it full force. That meant he was getting to her. Good.

Montes leaned down and pressed a kiss to her belly. She jumped slightly, shifting against the booth table, and he heard her breath hitch. He wouldn't let her recover, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts through her plain bra. Alliance blue, he noted with some mirth.

Williams gave a small gasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of her hands rise then fall again. A reflexive gesture - like she meant to smack him. The man chuckled against her belly, pressing more kisses to her skin as he went on fondling her tits. Nice and soft, warm to the touch. A delight to feel in his hands.

"On the contrary, you've got everything to prove to me." He told her in a husky voice. He nipped at the edge of her navel, chuckling at how she squirmed, trapped between him and the table.

Montes pressed on. He wanted skin-to-skin contact now. He slid his hands down, slipping his fingers under the cups of her bra. His fingers sank into the soft, warm flesh. Williams made a sound, a lovely little noise that was somewhere between a moan and a whine. What followed from her lips was a quiet, breathless curse. Her hand rose again, just as before. Like she meant to hit him, slap him. But the strike never came. 

Montes looked up and saw the conflict in her eyes, rage mingling with despair mingling still with the tiniest sliver of excitement. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. Her nails pressed into his skin. 

He kept on kissing her tummy, kept groping her tits. His fingers found her nipples, rubbing and pinching and teasing them to harden. The Alliance officer huffed, grunting through grit teeth as Montes worked his hands upon her. More curses came, some quiet… others not so much.

Aside from the sounds his work drew from her lips, Lt. Williams said nothing. She instead spoke with her eyes - whenever they weren't fluttering shut, of course. Outrage was written on her face, burning bright in her eyes. Montes could only laugh in the face of it. All that fury welling up in her gut and in her heart and she could do nothing with it. Not even when he took a step further…

He drew his lips up higher, grazing over her flat tummy with tiny kisses as he did. Soon he came to her breasts and shoved the plain blue bra upwards. Williams was obedient, tugging the garment off the rest of the way, but cursed him under her breath as she did. Her dress coat too slipped from her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. 

Her tits were round and plump, though not nearly as big as Nezzie's. A modest bosom, each breast just large enough to fill his hand. Smaller nipples as well, hard and tight and shades darker than her tanned skin. He pinched them softly, making Williams flinch and huff. He caught her eyes for a moment and made sure she saw his wolfish smile. Then he dipped down and put his mouth to work on her tits.

Immediately, Williams' shaky calm was shattered. She jumped as he closed his mouth around her nipple, shouting and jerking back in a vain effort. She was trapped there in the booth with him. Montes filled his mouth, grunting in satisfaction at the taste of tit. He was not slow or gentle, sucking and lashing his tongue without restraint.

"F-fucker!" She cried. She slapped his shoulder - the only retaliation she could afford. 

Montes chuckled with his mouth full of tit. He slurped upon the soft, plump peak, teasing at her nipple with his tongue. Williams hissed, squirming again. The Spectre agent felt glee, enjoying every little movement of hers, every little sound she made. And still he wanted more from her.

Sucking from one breast to the other, his mouth worked upon the Alliance officer's bust for a while longer. But soon Montes began to crave something else. Something juicier. 

His blood was up and he wanted to have her, right then and there. By now, his cock had swelled into hardness, a hot pipe trapped against his thigh. It wanted out. It wanted to get a taste of nice, tight pussy.

Nipping his teeth playfully at the lower slopes of Williams' breasts, Montes moved his hands lower. Down her flat, toned tummy. Down to her wide hips. He slipped his fingers under the waistline of her skirt… and began to slip the garment down.

"Hey," Ashley Williams shifted in his lap, trying to shimmy away. The move only helped Montes slip the skirt over her hips. He inched it further down her full thighs. "W-wait a minute-"

Montes drew back from her breasts, lashing his tongue over one of her hard, slick nipples. He nipped at her belly, growling.

"You don't need to be a good girl for me. Where's the fun in that?" His voice was low, rough. "But I do expect you to follow orders. Can you do that, LT?"

Her skirt was down to her knees now, exposing her panties. A plain, unremarkable pair, blue just like her bra. Montes grinned at the sight. She really is a patriot…

Up above, Williams wore a look of uncertainty now. The fire of her fury had dimmed and now her eyes shined with worry. She was a tough girl, Montes knew, but still just a girl. And he doubted she had ever met a man quite like him.

He awaited her answer, his eyes never wavering from hers. Eventually, Williams gave a small nod, swallowing. Her face hardened as she did - steeling her nerves for what was to come next. Montes had to admire that.

"Good." The brute of a man smirked, triumphant yet again. "Now sit back and let me have my fun. You might even enjoy yourself."

With one finger, he tugged her panties aside. Revealing the prize he so craved. And to his delight, he saw that she was already glistening wet. Warm to the touch as well. He drew his fingers slowly, gently along the lips of her sex - taking his sweet time as to savor the expressions on her face. And the little sounds she made…

But Montes wanted more than little sounds. He wanted Williams to be undone. He wanted to hear her scream.

He dipped his head down and put his mouth to work again. He slid his tongue out and tasted cunt.

- - -

Chora's Den. 

An establishment of low repute, Miranda knew. It reminded her in all the worst ways of the station Omega. Only this little slice of debauchery was nestled deep in the bowels of the Citadel. And that made it the perfect place for Gabriel Montes to spend his off-hours.

He had walked in there some time ago with a pretty Alliance officer on his arm. Miranda had to know why.

The club doors swished open. Immediately, Miranda's senses were assaulted. The booming music pounded at her ears and her nostrils were stung by the odor of sweat and alcohol - and a number of other unmentionable things. 

Miranda grimaced as she crossed the threshold. The thick air and gaudy lights swallowed her up, the grimy atmosphere thickening with each step she took.

The Cerberus operative eyed the scantily-dressed dancers as she went - and felt eyes upon her in turn. If the bare-bodied women writhing for credits made her feel filthy, then the drunken and handsy patrons made her skin crawl. 

Humans, turians, batarians, krogan - all were present at this putrid watering hole. No species had a monopoly on the dregs of society, it seemed. All contributed to the scum of the galaxy in equal measure.

One of the drunken louts - a human man with more hair on his face than on his head - seemed to move to block Miranda's way. His glassy eyes were full of interest. Unwanted interest.

Miranda let her biotics flare up, wisps of glowing blue pulsing from her fists, her shoulders - her eyes ought to have been lit up like a Christmas tree. 

The drunk flinched and stumbled back against his table, his boldness snuffed out instantly. Other patrons reacted the same. A number seemed amused - either by Miranda's display or the man's wilted bravery. Miranda didn't pay them any mind. As long as they left her alone, no one needed to get hurt. She was there on business, after all. And there was nothing Miranda loathed more than wasting time.

She scanned the club, the dance floor, the tables, the open booths. There was no sign of Montes or his Alliance date. Miranda cursed to herself. Where the hell could they have gone?

The Cerberus operative moved towards the bar, ignoring still the leers she was getting. She met eyes with the bartender, a pretty young thing with short hair and a kind smile. She was dressed similarly to the dancers, her shiny outfit cut strategically to reveal tantalizing swaths of belly, thigh, cleavage. Miranda might have sympathized… had the girl not looked genuinely delighted to be there.

She gave Miranda a bright smile - and looked her up and down appreciatively.

"Hey!" She greeted Miranda, resting her elbows on the bar. "Are you here for the job interview? I don't think you need to bother. All Fist needs is one look and he'll hire you on the spot!"

Miranda wanted to blanch.

"No." She said perhaps a bit too hotly. Enough for the bartender girl to recoil slightly. Miranda took in an even breath. "A man and woman walked in here earlier."

The bartender narrowed her eyes.

"Can you be more specific?"

"He was tall. Big. You couldn't miss him. The woman with him was Alliance military. She would have been in uniform."

The bartender's eyes flashed with recollection. She smiled, beaming.

"Oh! You're looking for Gabriel!" She leaned forward, fully invested now. Miranda couldn't help but wonder then just how familiar this girl was with the Spectre agent. "Yeah, I set them up with a private booth. Sorry, hon. He said he didn't want to be disturbed. Business stuff, I think."

Miranda muttered a curse, pushing off from the bar. She paced a bit, ignoring the look she was getting from the bartender girl. Eventually, she slowed, turning back to face the pretty young thing.

"Business stuff." Miranda repeated, scowling. "Is that all he's up to?"

The music continued to boom, the pulses of the bass rattling through her teeth. Miranda kept her eyes fixed on the bartender. The girl looked worried then, as well as… sympathetic?

"I don't mean to pry…" The bartender leaned forward against the bar. "Are you and Gabriel… together? Is he cheating?"

The girl's words didn't register immediately. Miranda just stared. Then she blinked, reeling back.

"No." She told the girl, bewildered. Then her face hardened. The ridiculousness of the idea… Miranda found it offensive. "No. Absolutely not."

Images flashed through her mind. Scenes. She was hanging off of the brute's arm, laughing, giggling like some airheaded bimbo. Walking down the street in heels and a short-skirted dress, long legs and cleavage on display. One of Montes' thick arms wrapped possessively around her waist. A trophy girlfriend. Her only purpose was to look good… and to make him feel good. In her head, she was sitting in his lap now. Her head was empty of all thoughts but for having fun. And she was happy. Gasps and giggles flowed from her lips as the burly Spectre agent pawed at her body, his big hands grabbing at her hips, her ass, her tits. Stripping her naked so he could do the same with his hungry mouth.

Miranda shuddered at the thought.

"Oh. Okay." The bartender seemed to sense her displeasure. She gave an apologetic wince. "Sorry. It's just… you look like his type."

"His type?" Miranda scoffed.

The girl bit her lip, seemingly weighing whether or not to speak.

"Gorgeous." She answered after a moment. "High status. The sort of women who are almost impossible to get."

Miranda pursed her lips. The distaste was still bitter on her tongue… but she'd take the compliment.

"Hm. Impossible to get." Miranda mused. "Yet he seems to get quite a few of them, doesn't he? Does he bring them here often?"

If she couldn't get through to Montes directly, she figured she might as well collect intel.

The bartender girl didn't answer at first, regarding Miranda with… not quite suspicion. Her bright eyes spoke closer to curiosity.

"Are you some kind of private eye?" She asked, more blunt now.

"Not quite." Miranda let out a heavy breath. She planted her hands on the bar. "But I do need to speak with Mr. Montes."

The bartender gave a small nod. She offered a smile next. Not as cheery as at first, but certainly warmer.

"Okay. But you might have to wait awhile." Her eyes flashed with devious amusement. "These private talks of his don't usually wrap up so quickly."

As if on cue, a faint noise could be heard. Even over the booming music, the thumping bass, the chattering of the patrons, it carried over it all. But only just barely. The faint sound of a woman moaning. No, of a woman shrieking.

Miranda turned to where she thought was the source. It was coming from one of the booths. One of the closed booths.

Some patrons hooted. Some others laughed. Most went on with their drunken activities.

Miranda though… she felt a warmth burning under her cheeks.

She turned back to the bartender, noting the girl's look of scandalized sympathy.

"Wonderful." Miranda snarked.

"Drink while you wait?" The girl offered, thumbing back at the bottles lining the shelves. "I'm Jenna, by the way."

"A pleasure." Miranda answered flatly. Reluctantly, she slid onto one of the bar stools. She tapped the bar. "Shot of Perfection. Hit me."

All this for Gabriel Montes, Miranda mused. I haven't even met the man in person yet and he's already a bad influence. Drinking on the job, Lawson?

Miranda watched Jenna pour out her drink, filling a shot glass with strawberry liqueur. The pink substance welled up to the brim. She picked it up, holding it gingerly in her gloved fingers.

I hope Cerberus appreciates this…

Miranda downed the shot. It tingled her tongue, her throat… and blossomed a pleasing warmth in her belly.

…And this Spectre had damn well better be worth my time.